So Dark, So Dark Indeed
by Brandishing No.2 Pencils
Summary: "Some bad people are getting too powerful," the man grinned savagely. "We could create more, my friend. Not even Alfendi himself could stop us." He laughed suddenly, startling Justin. "He won't be able to." (DARK AU)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Warning!** This is a DARK!AU. Expect a darker storyline...This is far too different from any fluff you may have created. And no, I am not the owner of Mystery Room.

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><p><strong><span>Chapter One<span>**

Hilda has an appointment with the Commissioner today.

It was fairly surprising for her to say the least, but there it was posted on her crowded calendar, staring at her silently from the top of the pile of papers tacked to the corkboard. Commissioner Barton rarely wished to talk to anyone nowadays. He was always stuck in his office, coming out only when most, if not all, employees had taken their leave.

She sighed tiredly, turning to a full-sized mirror as she did so. Noticing the paleness of her lips, she applied a healthy coating of red lipstick, her hand swiftly following the outline of perfection plastered upon her face. Once she was done, she grabbed her handbag, inserted the lipstick, and threw them carelessly on the couch.

What's the use of bringing the bag with her when it only has the lipstick as its sole content?

A sudden vibration in her pocket alerted her. She quickly brought it out and stared at the screen.

_Lucy Baker_.

Pressing the answer button, she started, "Report."

"Ee, Hilda!" Lucy's voice blared. "A new robbery has taken place."

"Where?"

"Gressenheller University, according int' this file."

"Robberies happen all the time," Hilda replied back. "But this must be particularly important for you to give me a ring, am I correct?"

For a moment, Lucy did not answer. Then she continued, "Nowt' corporeal were stolen."

Hilda was taken aback by the news. "Then how was it considered a robbery?!"

"Information," was the simple reply. "The victim were int' a state of shock, I'm telling ya. He couldn't tell us anythin' for now."

The blonde-haired woman pressed two fingers to her temples. She pouted her lips as she pondered what the meaning is behind all of the recent attacks, including this one. "Alright, listen. I just have a short appointment to attend. I'll meet you in our office in an hour, okay?"

"Aye," Lucy said.

"Take care, my dear assistant." Hilda pressed another button before she pocketed her gadget. She took one last fleeting look around her house, checking if she had forgotten anything. A glint of gold caught her eyes underneath the couch. Crouching carefully, her fingers closed over the round, metallic object. She heard the faint ticking that of the clock.

It was her precious pocket watch.

It was given to her…

Given to her….

By _him_.

In one smooth movement, she grasped it tightly, and flung it at her full-sized mirror. She opened the door leading outside, ignoring the shards flying everywhere and the sounds of broken clinking that echoed the vibrations of unspoken grief and anger.

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><p>"You're early," the Commissioner greeted as Hilda sat down in front of him.<p>

She watched as he steepled his fingers into an upside-down V. "It comes with occupational hazards of working with the Interpol _and_ Scotland Yard at the same time," she answered him.

"Have you heard the news?" He asked her as if he was simply inquiring the weather outside.

"The…robbery?" Hilda offered. "Lucy filled me in on some details."

"And the perpetrator?'

Hilda stared at him seriously. "Is it…Justin?"

"Bingo."

She stood up, making the chair she is sitting on move back. "They didn't catch him?!"

"You know how Mr. Lawson is," Barton supplied.

Justin Lawson. A big, burly man who is known to be a daredevil. Though he is huge, he can be fast when needed, making him one of the hardest criminals to catch. That and he was one of Hilda's old partners, before he revealed his true colours four years ago.

Hilda was desperate to see him. To talk to him. To wring answers from his damned mouth. Even if she has to force out information through intense, continuous interrogation.

"Thank you," Hilda told the Commissioner, before she exited the room.

"Just a moment." Barton handed her a yellow file as she turned. "I wanted to give you this. In case you need it for anything at all, Ms. Pertinax."

Hilda glared at the piece of cardboard, as if it was insulting her lipstick. "The events are still fresh in my mind, thank you. I don't need a reminder of _him_ becoming the very monsters he once caught and imprisoned."

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><p>Lucy almost had a crime record eight years ago. By some miracle, she was saved, even when all the evidences were stacked against her. Every testimony was pointing to her as the culprit. Every witness had rubbed the so-called crime at her confused face. So as she waited for Hilda, her boss and mentor, she stirred up some tea and recalled the day she met Alfendi Layton.<p>

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><p><em>"L-look! I weren't the killer! I murdered nobody!"<em>

"Liar! You killed her! You killed her!"

"Insolent child! Fourteen years old and a criminal. How disastrous! Tragic indeed!"

Young Lucy backed against the wall, hands red with dripping liquid. A silver knife peeked out from her fingers. Her face was wet with tears, and her vision blurred as she saw the adults who caught her. It was a commotion, including the flashes of bright light at her face as photographers captured the scene, intending to make it the highlight of tomorrow's news.

In front of her was some grotesque work. A girl's head now only contained one eye. Her ribs jutted out like the legs of a scorpion. Blood and skin spilled out like spaghetti with too much tomato sauce.

"I j-just took out the knife," she said. "I-I…"

A woman with a long nose and grayish hair slapped her cheek. "Stop! Just confess. You've caused enough grief as it is."

"B-but I…"

"How could you do this to my daughter and your friend, Lucy?" the woman continued, her face scrunching up in further sorrow. "HOW COULD YOU?!"

"That's enough. Police!" shouted a short man in a blue suit. A large badge was pinned on his upper clothing. He looked old, but he bore the aura of a leader. Walking behind him were three people: one was a blonde and serious woman, a redheaded and arrogant-looking man, and a huge, bulky male.

Lucy's heart pounded hard against her chest. They're going to handcuff her. To jail her. To have her face plastered on newspapers, branded as a criminal.

The redhead suddenly gasped, but not in surprise it seems, but in wonder. "Ah! Look at that marvelous corpse. Have you done this, girl? A shame if you haven't. Such potential could've worked wonders in the force."

"E-excuse me?!" the victim's mother choked in shock. "Did you just imply that m-m-my daughter is good to be dead?!"

"No, madam," the blonde interjected immediately before the redhead could snap back. "Please have patience with Alfendi. He's just a little deranged, but we'll catch the culprit in no time."

Alfendi snarled. "How dare—"

"She's right," the bulky male added. "No need to get too worked up. As far as this goes, this is an open and shut case." He pointed to Lucy in accusation.

All eyes were on her. Mocking her. Urging her to confess to a crime she did not commit.

"I-I…it weren't me," she murmured blankly, dropping the knife. It fell with a loud clang.

"LIAR! I SAW YOU!" shouted a boy with messy hair.

"Yes! We saw you! You stabbed the girl again and again!" screamed another person in the crowd.

Lucy closed her blurry eyes, ignored the droplets on her cheeks, and put her hands over her ears. The voices were overwhelming, threatening to drown with shame. No one is standing up for her. No one will listen…

No one at all…

She felt smaller as she slid downwards. She couldn't breathe as her passageway seemed to seize up, blocking air and life itself. She wanted to die. She wanted to escape, but she couldn't. She wished that at least one would hear her out. To help her.

But who would want to help a criminal?!

Suddenly, a hand brusquely grabbed her arm. When she opened her eyes, she saw the redhead dragging her to the side. He was looking at her, though she could not decipher what emotions are playing on his face. Alfendi…was his name.

He snapped his head back to his colleagues. "Hilda, it would be thoroughly beneficial if you gather witnesses' statements, unless you want to just stand there idly doing nothing."

Hilda, the blonde woman, tsked at him. "Always demanding favors in such a rude way! Justin, set-up the police line. I'll just go around and do as the insane man asks."

Alfendi huffed once and looked about to retort harshly when he seemed to remember Lucy. "Come on, girl, we have much to talk about unless you want to end up behind bars scrubbing toilets for the rest of your days."

Before Lucy could respond, they turned to the side a few meters away from the noisy crowd. She was shoved onto a protruding stone which seems to serve its purpose as a seat. Rubbing her wrists due to the pressure applied, she stared at the ground, frightened by the man's demeanor. Away from the shouting accusers though, she felt calmer, albeit her hands were shaking.

Alfendi sat across from her. He glared at her momentarily before he started. "Tell me the whole truth before I pull it out with your dying breath."

She wasn't sure if he was serious or not. Are detectives allowed to kill as they please?

"I did nowt in killin' her," she whispered.

"Don't play me for a fool," Alfendi barked. "I've already considered the fact, as much as it pains me due to some incredible effort and love going to the victim's death."

Lucy's head snapped up. She studied him for a moment, wondering how such a psychopath-minded person was able to make his way into the force. But…although he seems to just adore blood and gore, his scalding words offered the littlest bit of comfort to her. It was as if he was hinting that he believes that she hadn't done it at all.

"Ee, you're willing t' listen?" she asked shakily.

"Obviously," he drawled. He leaned forward to illustrate that he will keep his word.

Breathing deeply, she swallowed and tried to tell her account.

"I received an email from m-m-my friend," she told him. "Tellin' me to go t' their house so we could finish our project for school. So I went."

She stopped for a moment before she continued. "When I passed by a wide but dark alleyway ont' road a block from her house, I heard a scream."

She sniffed once, a chill running up her spine as she recalled the unworldly sound. "I-it sounded familiar. And it came from the alleyway." She pointed toward the direction of the noisy crowd.

"I saw no one, but I think I saw a shadow running away using this route. I came closer, and I saw…my friend. Rose Thorn were her name. I cried in horror as I saw a knife juttin' out from her chest."

Lucy's throat seized up and she started bawling again. It was too painful, too traumatic. "It were inhumane. She doesn't look like a person at all. So I-I-I…p-pulled out tha' knife!"

She looked pleadingly at Alfendi's emotionless face, begging him to believe her. "Please trust me! I-I did nowt! I did nowt!"

The inspector suddenly stood up, towering over her as she fell silent over his sudden move. He observed her quivering lips, her trembling and bloody hands, and her defeated composure.

"Is that all?" he asked quietly.

When she did not answer, he scoffed in annoyance. "Things would've been easier for morons like you had you not have tampered with the crime scene! Do you have any alibi, girl?!"

"I-I don't—"

"Think," Alfendi persisted, glaring at her. "I can only do so much in solving this mystery—"

"Like wot?" Lucy sobbed, a small flicker of hope bubbling in her chest.

Alfendi raised an eyebrow arrogantly. "Well…admiring mangled corpses is one…but that's not the point."

The flicker dissipated quickly. Lucy sniffed sadly, not knowing what to think. What alibi could she possibly have? She glanced at Alfendi who was gazing interestedly at the wall somewhere to her right. He was tapping his foot as he waited for her answer.

That's when Lucy realized that he already has the solution.

"W-why are ya' testin' me?" Lucy blurted out, as she stood up. Needless to say, she is still a dwarf next to the man.

"You disappoint me," Alfendi stated arrogantly. "You're not a real criminal after all. Criminals _always_ have alibis."

"Of course, I ain't one!" shouted the girl, offended. "Would ya' rather I'd be one?"

To her surprise, he chuckled, bowing his head as his hair covered his eyes. "This makes things more…delicate."

He grinned as he appeared to make up his mind. "Haha…very well, then. Watch and learn, girl. Come!"

With that, he reached out his arm, grinning at her. Lucy hesitated slightly before she grabbed it and was instantly transported back in front of the crowd.

Alfendi trudged importantly amidst the flashes of cameras. However, he blatantly ignored the press' questions. When one photographer tried to take a picture of Lucy's horrified face, the inspector dragged her behind him, shielding her from the harsh comments and putting himself in front. He even went as far as threatening the crowd.

"If you don't stop this ridiculous paparazzi, I'll have no choice but to pull out your films one-by-on, burn them and turn them into a huge, formless lump of fecal inorganic matter!" he exclaimed.

"Alfendi!" Hilda chided, materializing from the midst of the crowd, as the photographers put down their cameras in fear of losing their pics and their jobs. "I've gathered as much evidence as I can. How about you? Any supposedly beneficial information you wanted to share?"

"You first, Hilda," Alfendi bargained, keeping a firm grip on Lucy.

Hilda rolled her eyes as she took out her notes, and recited out the facts peevishly. "I've talked to Mrs. Corn, the victim's mother, and—"

"Mrs. Corn?" Alfendi interrupted, eyebrows knitting together. "Are you sure that's what you've heard, Hilda? Or are your ears full of cobwebs?"

"I have no time for this, Al," snapped the blonde. "It's a very…..corny name I admit. But we're talking about a murder here committed by a minor! So please, no more interruptions!" She shook her head. "Anyway, the mother said that her daughter was out at 6 o' clock to buy some materials for her Science project. The next thing she knew, someone was knocking on her door. A man named Warren delivered her the news of the tragic death of a girl who somehow looked like Rose, the name of her daughter. Panicking, she rushed out and saw another girl with a knife in hand standing over her child."

Flipping her notes, she continued. "I also interrogated the boy over there who claimed that he saw the murderer stabbing Rose again and again. Another one still was a female lady who heard a shrill scream and a considerably loud thump that sounded like a stab from that of a knife."

She glanced up seriously, as her eyes flicked over to Lucy, who was trembling with an intensity of an earthquake. "It's undeniably an open and shut case. The forensic, Mr. Phee Sich, was called by the Commissioner and will be coming shortly. But with the amount of evidence we have…"

"It's hopeless," Justin concluded, coming over to them. "We might as well take the girl behind you into custody. She'll have to be taken up by the people who are assigned over minors."

"We'll be doing no such thing."

Hilda and Justin stared at the inspector as if he had apologized for every bad thing he had done against them, like say, insulting them 24 hours a day or hijacking their cars and sleeping inside for no other reason than to annoy them.

Lucy, on the other hand, just stared at him wordlessly. Her scarlet eyes sparkled a little with water before she closed her eyelids. She never let go of Alfendi's hand, though hers was already clammy with sweat and blood.

"You're crazy," Justin huffed. "I knew it. You lost your marbles even before you joined the force."

"I did not earn my position by chance, you know," Alfendi chuckled. "I just continued solving mysteries until the Commissioner realized that they are finally getting somewhere with my help."

He strode over to a photographer before his friends had a chance to reply. He grabbed the man's collar as he almost dropped his camera. The inspector smirked and moved his face closer until they were directly eye-to-eye.

"May I borrow your very expensive laptop?" he practically demanded in a very quiet voice.

"Take it," the photographer quivered as he handed the bag.

"Damn it, Alfendi," Justin facepalmed as his friend got the bag. "Aren't you ever going to stop looking for…conflict?!"

"Please give it back to the poor man, Mr. Layton," the Commissioner said as he came over after calling someone on the phone.

"I'm sorry, Commissioner, but Hilda and I have a bargain," he replied offhandedly as he laid down the bag. He let go of Lucy's hand in order to wipe off the blood, but she resorted to his elbow instead. Glancing at it briefly, he ignored the droplets of blood staining his suit, and tried to focus at the task at hand. "I am about to show her what I know, and turn this case on its head."

The crowd, the photographers, Hilda, Justin, the Commissioner, and most of all, Lucy, quieted at this bold declaration. Everyone was silent that one could hear a pin drop. Turn the case on its head? With the staggering amount of evidence, photos, testimonies and witnesses stacked against the girl, what kind of cards does Alfendi hold?

Suddenly, he shoved the laptop to Lucy. "If you would be so kind to log in to your e-mail, girl."

"What is he doing?!" Mrs. Corn cried, as tears streaked her face. "Are y-y-you trying to defend that criminal?! What about j-j-justice?"

"Oh, we will be coming to that in due time, Mrs. _Corn_," he turned to her, one golden eye peeking out from under his bangs.

Lucy's fingers wavered as she carefully typed in her username and password. Thankfully, most of the blood had washed out, so it was of no hindrance to the keyboard. A few seconds passed before she tried to give the laptop back to Alfendi…but he just glared at her.

"Surely, you know what alibi I am talking about now, young girl?" he grumbled.

_Alibi_. The man never stopped on this term. Her eyes lit up as she understood what he was trying to tell her.

_The email…_

Her breathing quickened as she hovered the mouse over the title 'Subject: Science Project Lucy!'

It was her defense. Her only and solitary defense and proof that Rose had invited her over. Better yet, she saw the time it was sent to her.

_6:10 p.m_.

Alfendi stood up and brushed off her arm, and Lucy knew that he knew.

According to Hilda's notes, 6 o' clock was the exact time Rose left the house. If so, who could've sent the message?

The inspector turned to the press. They all stared back at him, waiting for him to speak.

"I am now going to tell you what exactly transpired approximately one and a half hour ago," he started smugly as if he has everything figured out. "According to my good colleague here, the _loving_ mother Mrs. Corn said that the victim left the house at exactly 6 o' clock. Warren told her the news, a boy and a lady saw and heard what happened blah blah blah…"

He pointed at the corpse lying so pitifully on the ground. "But…

He paused.

"That not what happened."

Mrs. Corn gasped. "Are you implying that we are all liars?" she demanded.

"No, I'm implying that _you_ are the liar, Corn," Alfendi laughed. "Relationship to the victim? _STEPmother_."

The press suddenly turned to Mrs. Corn and started asking questions. The photographers, of course, tried to take a decent shot. Murmurs and whispers and finger pointing were all directed towards the woman.

It was chaotic to say the least. People are already gossiping, as the wings of News tried to eavesdrop on the questions asked. They were trying to strip down every wall blocking their way in seeking the truth. To look beyond the veil. To know who to believe.

"What are you talking about, Alfendi?" Hilda questioned urgently, hands on her hips.

This time it was Lucy who replied. She paled as she clicked pieces into the complicated puzzle. "The victim's name…t'was Rose _Thorn_."

"Furthermore," Alfendi raised his voice to make himself heard. "I'd like to inquire the _stepmother _where her husband could be. Dead, I assume," he added without waiting for her reply. "And might I ask…what was the dead man's surname? Come on, let me hear it!"

He cupped his ears as he leaned closer.

Mrs. Corn gritted her teeth in annoyance. "Mister…Thorn—"

"Aha! So brutally honest," the inspector mocked. "Wonderful! Now that I have put you in the spotlight, let us continue with my version of events."

He strode over to Lucy. "Now girl, if you would point to me the witness who saw you stabbing the girl over and over again."

Her eyes scanned the crowd quickly, before resting on the boy. "There," she directed.

Justin immediately moved toward the witness and escorted him toward the front. He shoved the boy so that he almost lost his balance.

"What do you want with me?" he cried.

"Nothing," Alfendi deadpanned. "Except your name."

The boy looked at him quizzically. "I—"

Suddenly, Mrs. Corn dashed forward and grabbed Lucy. The scarlet-eyed girl cried as she felt her hand slip from Al's elbow, and her hair being torn from her scalp.

"There is no need to ask his name!" Mrs. Corn exclaimed. "Declare this girl to be guilty of the crime already! Otherwise, I'll snap her neck in revenge!" To prove her point, she laid a hand on Lucy's head.

Lucy squirmed, crying in agony. Everyone froze at this sudden development. The girl looked at Al's eyes, begging him to help her.

Alfendi's smirk vanished and turned into a scowl. But in a moment, however, he smiled. "Heh, two can play this pathetic game."

In a fluid motion, the inspector wrapped an arm around the boy tightly, ensuring that he will not escape, and aimed a _gun_ at his head. Gazing at Mrs. Corn's horrified face, he snickered. "Now we're even. I have your _son_'s life in my hands."

"Al, no!" Hilda tried to move forward but the look Alfendi gave her made her stay still.

"Anyone with half a brain would see the resemblance between the two of you," he cocked his head. "And anyone with quarter of a brain should see that the victim was not killed by a mere knife or repetitive stabbing."

"W-what?" Mrs. Corn stammered. "You can't possibly know w—"

"_Ohhhh_, you know what I'm talking about, Corn. You see, I may not be a forensic…" he stated. "But I know, that Rose Thorn has been torn to pieces by…an _ingested bomb_."

No one spoke about this revelation. Everyone was just listening in.

"And who could've put that? Who has control over the food? It was not by mere chance that the victim supposedly sent a message to her friend at 6:10 pm, but in fact left the house ten minutes before that. Don't deny it! No! Everything was premeditated. You ensured you have access to her email before you made her burst into a beautiful firework display of blood and skin! I assume that you have a dark basement where you could do exactly that. Then you dragged Rose in this very alleyway, knowing fully well that a girl will come along you can blame everything on. When you saw her, you screamed like a banshee, and then stabbed your stepdaughter with a knife!"

He tightened his grip around Mrs. Corn's son. "Isn't that what happened?"

Beads of sweat lined the stepmother's face. Her eyes darted from side-to-side as she seemed to try to untangle her thoughts. As if she was trying to find a way out. In clear distress, she let go of Lucy, who sprinted back to Al, and raised her arms above her head.

"Yes, I did it all," she admitted at last.

"Giving up so soon? You're not even much of a challenge." Alfendi let go of his 'hostage' as Hilda proceeded to berate him.

"Mom, no!" the boy said, running forward. "Mom! MOM!"

"Just let my son, go…" she pleaded not looking up as Justin handcuffed her arms. "I thought I could inherit the house and fortune for him…but it's…impossible now."

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><p>Lucy stopped the memory as she heard the door behind her open. She doesn't want to continue it anymore anyway. She doesn't want to recall what Alfendi said to her afterwards.<p>

"Mornin', Hilda," she said as she feigned happiness.

"Mornin', Lucy," the blonde greeted her tiredly. "We'll be taking a visit to Gressenheller University in a few minutes. I'll just prepare my things, okay?"

"Aye, madam," Lucy smiled. "Anythin' interestin' 'bout the case?"

Hilda paused for a second, before she continued her work. "There's no news about _him_ yet if that's what you're after."

Lucy settled down her empty mug. She gazed at her reflection at the window, while seeing the unseen clouds and hearing the unheard toll of the Big Ben.

"I think he needs us," she murmured.

"There's just one problem," Hilda stated clearly. "_He_ is not Alfendi anymore."

She met Lucy's eyes at her reflection on the window. "Is he?"

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><p>AN: Intrigued? Constructive reviews are enough pay for me to continue this story.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I've been busy lately. But I really love writing this, so I couldn't leave it here to rot. Same routine guys...keep reviewing. I need feedback. And no, I lost Layton Brothers during a game of poker, so I never owned this.**

**A special thanks to those kind people who favorited/followed/reviewed my story. Suggestions are welcome.**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Two<span>**

The early sound of the honks of brass horns and the patter of feet on the pavement became nothing more than a rhythm to Lucy's ears. She smelled the greasy smell of hotdog in the air. She watched several small children frolicking around, not minding the busy reality. She wished she could ask her mentor if she could buy some hotdogs…

Hilda was beside her, but the two were quiet as they made their way toward their destination. They weren't really in a hurry. An inspector was already sent to investigate what had transpired. They were merely going because the duo was initially assigned to these types of attacks.

The detective constable became once again lost in her thoughts as she recalled their conversation earlier.

_"I think he needs us."_

_ "There's just one problem. He is not Alfendi anymore. Is he?"_

As much as she hated to admit it, that was the truth. _The truth_, which hit them hard in the gut like a sledgehammer two years ago, left them reeling at the edge of the cliff. She was only one of the very few people who understood why Hilda always seemed upset and cold. Why the Interpol agent's eyes seem to gaze emptily at nothingness during intervals.

_As if they saw horrors no one has ever seen before._

With a chill up her spine, Lucy realized that may have been the case.

After all, the detective constable only heard about _his _disappearance in the news three years ago. She could almost hear the reporter interviewing a desperate man in a black top hat, who was pleading with the public to report any information about the missing inspector. And so, the case of his mysterious departure was handled by Ms. Hilda Pertinax. It was a year after that when things had started to become so wrong. The same year Lucy started working in Scotland Yard.

Ms. Pertinax was a very intelligent and resourceful woman. And after many hindrances and obstacles, she finally solved the secret behind Alfendi's disappearance.

But…

…all the press got were her claims. Furthermore, her claims were vague and almost incoherent. Phrases came out like, '_It can't be him_' and '_Too fast…too fast…nine to four…four to one_.'

No one understood her murmurs. And no one bothered to ask her again. Even Lucy doesn't know the whole story…just snippets of it in fact, whenever Hilda started rambling about recent attacks. As if she is trying to piece together a cracked vase using earwax.

The numbers made no sense either. Whether there were addresses or values in an algebraic equation or the telephone number for ordering Hawaiian pizza, only the Interpol agent knew for sure.

Her train of thought stopped when the great Gressenheller University came into view. The supposedly ever-welcoming façade was devoid of wandering students, replaced instead by the police who were roaming the grounds, watching for any suspicious men. School was obviously cancelled for they entered the capacious halls uninterrupted by any college crowds and teachers. Hilda's heeled boots clicked loudly on the tiled floor as Lucy managed to catch up with the sudden fast pacing of her mentor.

They turned a rounded corner, which was directed by another Scotland Yard official who apparently recognized them. Along the corridor, they noticed a door—_well_—what was _once _a door, which was supposed to be hinged to the left doorway. Now, it was nothing more than splintered smithereens littering the ground.

Lucy heard a fairly deep voice resounding from the room. Upon entering, her eyes widened in recognition as she saw the inspector who was sent in their absence, and was now talking to a man in his thirties.

Peach-colored hair that was swept back _naturally_? Check. Sharp eyes that seemed to over-analyze everything? Check. Glinting shiny, half-moon glasses? Check. Buckingham-Palace-sized arrogance? A bazillion billboards couldn't possibly bear the size of that check.

"Inspector Blaine Dartwright," Hilda greeted curtly, nodding her head. "What are the circumstances surrounding this case?"

Blaine smiled as he stood up to match Hilda's stature. "Ms. Hilda, such an _honor_ to finally see you outdoors," he joked. "I trust you've been well?"

"I have no time for pleasantries," she declared superiorly. "I asked you a question. Answer me as due."

Lucy grinned inwardly. She always got excited whenever her mentor started acting all domineering, which always works in heated interrogations of incredibly obstinate criminals. So much was her power that extremely few people dared bet against her. As expected, the result was Blaine's smile sputtering into a shocked expression, as if he'd been slapped across the face. Lucy pitied him, but she wouldn't change places with him even if it meant getting paid a million pounds in return.

No one wanted to be at the receiving end of Hilda's glare…

…unless you wanted to turn into a toasted, living sarnie.

"Yes, of course," the inspector answered quickly, recovering from his initial shock and settling on a disinterested look. He turned to the man he was previously talking to.

Lucy noted the man's appearance. He was dressed in a navy blue suit with a white polo underneath, while a maroon tie hangs loose around his collar. He also wore navy blue pants with a golden pocket watch in one of its pockets. He was clutching his brownish hair, shielding his face in the process, and looking as if he was about to crack his head open. Beside him was a small, black leather bag which seemed to be full of tools.

Lucy hoped they were just tools. So far, in her two-year experience of being a DC, black bags usually spell _deadly business_. They contain wide assortments of bombs, drugs, loaded guns, and _very_ suspicious pickles.

The man looked like a professional. He would've appeared as a gentleman if it weren't for his extremely troubled expression and shaking hands.

Blaine frowned, as if he was feeling quite constipated. He adjusted his blue and black striped tie which was crooked. "The good doctor here was apparently attacked at about six in the morning."

The DI paused as he recalled the sequence of events. "He entered the dean's room upstairs, but it was dark inside, which is supposedly acceptable since the dean could be sleeping inside the office. Such was her unbreakable habit acoording to this doctor, as he knew her personally. However, when he opened the lights, no one was apparently present. From what I could glean from his unconnected responses, he decided to stay anyway and wait for the dean himself—"

"Wot made him stay?" Lucy blurted out. "Why not come back later?"

"Well, my dearest, I could only get so much from a traumatized man," Blaine replied as he smiled at her. "He wouldn't say."

Hilda folded her arms. "And then…what happened next?"

Just then, Lucy noticed the doctor twitch a little, as if he had a sudden bad itch in his backside. She also saw that Blaine scowled even further, looking like he swallowed a bag of nails.

"What happened next was…_ahem_…quite unclear," Blaine admitted. "There were no imminent signs of struggle in the office, but the doctor kept on saying that he saw a big, bulky stranger with a peculiar smell attempted to asphyxiate him—"

Lucy had to interrupt, not being accustomed to the word.. "A…as…asphy—?"

"Goodness, Lucy," Hilda scolded. "It's a simple term most commonly used around the force. It means to choke, to suffocate, or to strangulate."

"Oh," the detective constable muttered in a small voice.

"Anyway," Blaine continued, though he gave an apologetic nod toward Lucy. "There were finger marks around his neck, but they don't look as if they belonged to a bulky man. And still, the doctor insists he saw a huge guy clear as day. Granted, he turned on the lights, and the forensic department has proven that it was indeed on around that hour. So we have no choice but to believe his word."

"How was the culprit able to enter the room?" Hilda inquired. "Was the door locked?"

"According to the victim…no."

Lucy turned her scarlet eyes at the ceiling. "Eh, wot info were stolen? Or wot did the culprit need anyway?"

"That's another thing," Blaine declared, steepling his fingers. "I have no idea. Like I said, you wouldn't be able to glean much from someone coming from a state of shock."

"_No_. I'm fine now."

The three detectives turned their heads toward the doctor. He had removed his hand from his head, and he looked at their faces with clarity. For the first time since they arrived, Lucy saw his face.

He looked young for his age, but he appeared distinguished enough. The glasses framing his brown eyes certainly made him seem scholarly. His mouth was a thin line, set in grim determination. He stared at them unflinchingly, as if silently saying '_Tis' your first time seein' a serious dude?_'

As she scrutinized his features further, Lucy realized that she knew this man. But she couldn't place where she'd seen him before.

"I-I know you…" Lucy pointed.

"I'll take you to the scene of the crime," he announced , ignoring Lucy's comment. "Then I'll tell you as much as I know. Inspector Dartwright—" The doctor stood up as Blaine suddenly stood at eye level with the man. "You may stay here. You already checked everything out."

Blaine raised an eyebrow expertly. "I can see your hands shaking. Are you _sure_ you're feeling well? You seem to be having a _very severe case_ of migraine."

"I—"

Once more, the doctor doubled over in pain. His hand travelled back on his sweating forehead. He grumbled in annoyance, as he forced himself to regain his composure despite his obvious discomfort. "I-I'm alright. It would be better if I were the one to elaborate to these ladies what else happened at the scene of the crime. I-I was the victim after all."

"But—"

"That's enough, Inspector Dartwright," Hilda commanded, stepping forward as she trained her piercing eyes at him. "It would be helpful if you'd create a case file for this matter. If we would be able to track Jus—the _criminal_…quicker, the better for the Yard."

Blaine raised his hands in surrender. "Yes, maam."

The doctor hobbled out of the door, followed by the clicking steps of Hilda. Lucy started to trail after them when she halted by the doorframe. She turned to Blaine, who was staring at the wall and seemed a bit upset. He had gone unnaturally quiet.

Lucy hoped he wasn't depressed about her not acknowledging his advances for over a year.

She gazed at him thoughtfully, noticing that his gloved hands were fidgeting. The sunlight framed his fair hair and illuminated his light golden-yellow suit, making him glow like some angel, though minus the wings. But his face reflected nothing of the sun's happiness.

Lucy sighed. "Are yah okay?"

A crease appeared on his forehead, but he didn't look at her. He seemed to be fathoming what to respond, opening and closing his mouth like a fish several times. Finally, he replied, "I sent a box of white chocolates at your table earlier. Have you—?"

"I enjoyed them."

The bespectacled inspector's head snapped to her in surprise. "W-Wait…so you mean—?"

"Aye," Lucy affirmed, adjusting her orange hat.

Blaine blinked. "So you mean…wait…the chocolates—"

"…are in't my stomach," the DC finished for him. "And…aye, I'll accept your offer of '_going owt_' t'night."

"Accept my offer," he echoed. "Wait…so—"

"I'll see yah soon," Lucy said cheerfully, hurrying out to rejoin her mentor and leaving the flabbergasted man standing in the middle of the room.

* * *

><p>An officer, whom Lucy knows by the name of Meekins Jr., accompanied them to the second floor, where the dean's office was relocated many years back.<p>

Meekins Jr. supported the doctor carefully as he led them to their destination, though he kept his body ridiculously straight-back, as if he had a metal pole for a spine. Lucy thought that this might be Meekins' idea of formality.

The officer didn't look like much. Just the average short man dressed in his neatly-pressed uniform of white and red. However, Lucy knew better than to underestimate him. She saw him running his duties well around his workplace (if he wasn't being clumsy) and always kept his desk organized. Although, like any other person, he had his own share of flaws, such as him being too attached to a megaphone he insists on using whenever he gets excited, even if the person he is speaking to is right in front of him (with a few very special exceptions, of course, like Hilda and the Commisioner. Unless he wanted to be fired from his job…)

He calls everyone 'SIR!' including females and children, but he is generally sweet and competent enough.

"HERE WE ARE, SIR!" Meekins announced loudly with a poker face on. "The scene of the crime!" he added, like the office was some kind of astonishing historical place.

Mercifully, he did not bring his megaphone.

"Ta', Officer Meekins," Lucy saluted.

Never missing a beat, Meekins Jr. saluted back at her, then to Hilda, and lastly toward the doctor. He left stiffly with his back as straight as ever.

"Nice chap," the doctor remarked, still clutching his head.

"Nice set o' lungs," Lucy nodded.

"Indeed, my eardrums are throbbing," Hilda affirmed, as she stepped into the silent room. "Ah. Now _that's_ more like it."

The office was pristine. Rows upon rows of books lined the walls like military guards. Trophies of appreciation and honour were lined up behind the dean's desk. Nothing was out of place, which made Lucy wonder how the culprit could've hidden.

"Are you feelin' a bi' more better, Doctor?" Lucy questioned the victim.

The doctor nodded as he struggled to straighten up. His eyes travelled to a table on his right. "I'll be okay, Ms. Lucy."

A chill went up her spine at the mention of her name. Lucy realized that she hadn't even introduced herself, nor was she even introduced by Blaine or Hilda. Her surprise must've shown on her face because the doctor laughed briefly.

"Yes, I know you," he said. "How could I forget…"

He smiled warmly as he grabbed a dark blue top hat resting on the desk, then stylishly placed it on his head.

"….the girl from Al's first case as a detective inspector?"

Then everything inside Lucy's memory clicked. She recognized the man's face in the newspapers and on the news. She also saw Hilda's face lit up as if she also remembered him.

"Impossible," Hilda murmured.

"Pardon me," the doctor apologized. "I should've told my name sooner. A gentleman should always present himself properly under any circumstance."

He held out a hand to the detective constable, which Lucy shook mildly.

"Greetings," he said. "I am Doctor Luke Triton."


End file.
